Bookends
by Hugger-Of-Trees
Summary: Being a duo of narratives looking at the events in the day before and the weeks after the account laid out in Monstrous Regiment. Tonker/Lofty assumed but not expanded upon in both, Polly/Mal implied in the second
1. A Priori

**Bookends: Being a duo of narratives looking at the events before and after the account laid out in Monstrous Regiment.**

**Summary:** Detailing the events of the day before and adding a little more padding to the account laid out in the first pages of MR. (Tonker/Lofty assumed but not expanded upon).

**Disclaimer:** Terry Pratchett owns the characters and the world they live on. I am grateful for all the brilliant books and make no claims of ownership in any way.

**A/N:** I know these words (_A Priori_ and _A Posteriori_) do not mean what I am taking them to mean, the actual Latin for before and after being _Pre_ and _Post_. But they sound better and I've had to use them so often in statistical tests I couldn't fight the urge to sequester them for better things when I had the chance.

**A Priori**

_Gods help them; they'd really done it now. _The realisation hit her suddenly; a heavy stone dropping in her stomach.

Tonker had managed to lay claim to a corner of this decrepit shed they'd been given to sleep in and now, slumping back against the wall, she gave thanks again for the warmth radiating through from the bar next door. It would have been a cold night out on the hills. She tuned out the confusion of hay tossing and squabbles over space that reigned around her as the recruits settled down for the night; unconsciously working out a pecking order of superiority.

Since last night she'd not really had a minute to think. Everything had happened so fast. You had to take the chances you were given and run with them. Her only plan had been to get them out of Munz, but lying in rain soaked cover above the town Tonker had come to the painful realisation that a burning determination to die before being captured again wasn't actually that detailed a plan.

Perhaps that should have been the moment she sat down and put together some sort of scenario of options. But in reality there hadn't been any time for thought. As the rising sun lit up the smoke drifting from the chimneys above the misty morning streets, they'd turned their backs and struck out uphill. What was it Tilda had taught her all those years ago? Getting ground between you and your pursuers was always the first step. Splashing through yet another stream, the cold eating through into her feet, she'd hoped they wouldn't use dogs.

With regard to that, the return of the thunderstorm had been a blessed relief. Up here in the hills weather fronts didn't move through along sedate vectors as in the lower plains. The steep sided mountains, sticking up into the airflow bounced clouds from one side of the valley to another in a meteorological game of ping pong. A cloudburst thought over and done with would often be driven back on its original path to once again release torrential rain on the unsuspecting below. Crossing the lower pastures earlier in the night they had been drenched to the skin and as the pair made their way up through the trees, scrambling over the wet slippery ground, Tonker had been grateful that this time they were protected by the canopy above.

When at last she'd called a halt, the chill air burning in her lungs, they had gained a good distance up the mountainside and there was only the quiet of the empty woods around them. Looking back that would have been the prime time to take a moment and think through the next step. But she'd been so tired and cold. Leaning against a tree to catch her breath she'd looked at their thin clothes and Tilda beside her, chilled to the bone and unable to stop shaking. _One thing at a time_. They would have to take a detour.

An hour later she'd been adjusting the rough cloth of the waistcoat across Tilda's shoulders as the girl stood passively between her hands. She'd known without words that Tilda wanted to burn their own clothes and, whilst Tonker didn't blame her, they couldn't risk smoke betraying their position and so she'd had to deny the girl. That hadn't been fun. The purloined clothes, though thicker than their own, were still wet from the line and the slightest breeze went right through them. A fire might have helped with that as well. Shivering she'd wished there had been two waistcoats, but thieves couldn't be choosers and Tilda had needed the extra layer more than she did.

Tired as they were it had been time to move on again and obedient as ever Tilda had followed on at the lightest touch of a hand on her shoulder. She'd had time to think then definitely, as they were scrambling across the hillside. But in her defence the path was uneven and she'd had to pay attention to where she was placing her feet amongst the writhing tree roots. The gentle hand that had slipped silently into hers as she led the way was another distraction and she had put aside any thoughts of a long term future in the aim of getting the owner of that hand a safe distance from their pursuers.

By midday they had been warm at last, the clothes dried by the heat of their exertions. Tonker had allowed a couple of short halts to catch their breath but she eventually had to call a proper rest stop. She hadn't wanted to with the thought of the pursuit burning at her heels ever strong in her mind, but Tilda had been drooping on her feet. They'd stumbled across a spot where a natural clearing had produced a grassy platform looking out over the river foaming away into the valley below and she hadn't thought they'd find anything better. When she'd turned round from examining the view Tilda had been already asleep, curled up in the sun like a tired puppy. Tonker had had to swallow something in her throat seeing her there, exhaustion wiping the usual lines from her face. She'd allowed herself a moment, running her fingers over the close cropped hair, smoothing it flat, remembering days when it was longer and the many times she'd run her fingers through it. She'd thought vaguely that Tilda would be able to have whatever hairstyle she wanted now. In the midst of the thought a wave of tiredness had swept over her and, stretched out on the sun warmed turf she'd fallen into an exhausted slumber.

When she'd woken later the clearing was still lit by the sun. Drowsy still, she'd allowed her eyes to drift over the river cutting its way through the woods below her and a glint had caught her eye on the troll bridge that leapt slender over the gorge. Someone was crossing, probably not a trader this high up, more likely a smuggler, taking the quiet road to Plün. Her gaze moving on she had picked out a small cart, making its way up the narrow road beside the river. The flags could still be made out, even from this distance, and she'd recognised it as the same cart that had been recruiting in the village square. She'd heard the drumming all afternoon but at the time it had meant nothing. The numerous Borogravian Wars were something that happened outside the walls and therefore nothing to do with the inhabitants of the Grey House.

It was then, as she'd glanced over at Tilda, still asleep, that the enormity of what they were attempting to do had overwhelmed her. In sudden rising panic she'd realised they had no money, no food and no plan. Incongruously the view below had remained calm and serene as she'd fought for control over her heartbeat.

It had all been too much for one person to control. How they were going to manage? People were chasing them and they were an obvious pair. She wouldn't be caught again. She _couldn't_. They'd needed a way not to be obvious anymore. A method of travelling that kept them moving but inconspicuously. So she'd made a quick decision, without really thinking. She'd made the impossible decision and here they were.

_Here they were indeed; shut up with six lads (six other lads she reminded herself), and supposedly marching off to war on the morrow. Late as the hour was, this might be the time to reassess their situation._

She glanced down to where Tilda lay at her side, curled up between the wall and the defensive barrier created by Tonker's legs, protected from all the activity. The others probably thought she was sleeping, but the signs Tonker had become used to over the past year indicated instead that the girl was in the silent box she'd inhabited since _it _had happened. She missed Tilly's logical reasoning. Back in the day she'd always been able to explain things in a way that made sense, making the world clear to Tonker and showing her a straight path out of whatever maze she was thinking her way through. Tonker supposed she'd been lucky to get the girl out of the house before she retreated back inside her closed world. She didn't attempt to stir her out of her adsorption, but settled for resting a quiet hand on her shoulder instead.

Around her the bustle had finally calmed down a bit and the recruits were now talking cheerfully amongst themselves. _Small talk. Another skill they forgot to teach in the Grey House._ They were still ignoring her, thank goodness. Now would be a good time to take advantage of that.

_Who was a threat then?_ Her eyes wandered lightly over them all, never pausing long enough to draw attention but managing to take in every atom of threatening information. Now that _was_ a skill they were very good at teaching you in the Grey House.

The vampire caught her attention. _Hate vampires_. _That was her gut reaction, always had been._ But on top of that she remembered overhearing somewhere that they had a great sense of smell. Would a vampire be able to smell that they were different? It was a worrying thought. This one looked smart as well. He'd kept looking over at their little corner. Trust their luck to fall in with the only vampire with brains in the whole district. She didn't think it was hopeless though. If push came to shove, surely a slash to that pretty face would make him step back for a second? That would give them time to run at least.

The lad next to him was going to be a threat as well. _Too intelligent by half. You could tell by the eyes._ He watched everything, waiting and drawing his own conclusions about the world. Quiet. You had to watch out for the quiet ones. _Little blond git._ He didn't look that tough though. She flexed her shoulders and decided she could probably take the scrawny git in a fight.

_Not like the Troll._ That was one big opponent. _But no real threat_ she concluded after some thought. He looked too stupid to start anything and even if someone provoked him, there should be plenty of time to run before those big arms got swinging. The troll could safely be ignored for the time being.

Same with the Igor, who was shocking to look at but no actual danger. He didn't seem aggressive enough to actually assault anyone. He would probably be a devil to fight if provoked though. _Best to let sleeping Igors lie._

The remaining two presented no problem, consisting of a big barrel of lard and Wazzer.

_What was Wazzer doing here anyway?_

It had been a shock to see her as they walked into the bar. Luckily the clever one and the vampire had been discussing the beer so no one had noticed her stiffen. Wazzer didn't recognise them, thank goodness. Truth was, they'd not seen her for some time and she didn't really look up anyway. It was more likely she'd recognise their feet than anything else. Tonker resolved never to remove her boots.

_How had she got out? Had she followed them?_

Her stomach tightened, struck suddenly by an awful thought. _If that stupid weak incompetent sorry excuse for a wet rag had led 'Them' to her…_ Tilda, sensing her distress stirred beside her and she forced herself to relax, controlling her breathing and rubbing a calming hand over the shoulder tense beneath her hand. When she at last turned her attention back to Wazzer it was to see the girl take a picture of the Duchess from her pack and hang it on an old nail. She shook her head tiredly. 'They' had really messed that girl up good and proper.

_Oh gods, now what was she doing?_ She was _actually_ praying to it! Oh, the bloody _fool_!

No one broke the uncomfortable silence, each recruit turning away to find something interesting to look at somewhere else. Tonker herself twisted away to check on Tilda again. Or _'Lofty'_ as she was now. The superior vampire had started that one. He'd laughed when they'd met and asked them who the _'Lofty One'_ was, skulking at the back. Somehow it had stuck.

_Damnit! Why had she introduced herself as Tonker?_

She'd been thinking of new names all day on and off, but when it came to it the same old label had just slipped out. As per usual, she'd stared down anyone who dared snigger, hiding her hatred for the name behind disinterest as she'd once again accepted the designation. _Wasn't life fun?_ The name she'd hated for years had become such a part of her that she unwittingly volunteered it on the first day of their new life. _Great._

She guessed something similar had happened to Wazzer. It was hard to change the habit of a lifetime. Even she'd had trouble swallowing her reply when that dumb lump o lard _('Shufti' apparently, and what kind of a name was that?_) had asked where it was from. "_Cos she wets the bed_!" And they'd all fall about laughing. That was the old way.

She sighed and refrained from punching the hay in her frustration. There was nothing she could do about it now. She was Tonker Halter, Private in the Borogravian Army and she could like it or lump it but nothing would change it. Looking up she noticed the group was finally settling out into sleeping areas. No one came near their corner, thank goodness. She might be trapped in here with them, but she wasn't sharing space willingly. Resting back against the wall in the most relaxed manner she could fake, she returned to weighing up the pros and cons.

_Let's see, on the down side, they had no money, people were probably looking for them and they were stuck in here with an overly clever vampire. Add to that the fact they were in the army, pretending to be boys (goodness knew how long that charade would last with the lack of facilities available) and on top of that, she was lumbered with a short, dark-haired person silently following her everywhere… _

The down side seemed rather full.

On the up side however, there did appear to be a small dark-haired person silently following her everywhere. _Which was always a good thing._ Tonker found herself smiling down fondly at the girl resting beside her. She gently brushed a strand of hair away from where it had fallen over her face. Tilda always looked so young when her eyes were closed.

_They were out. A definite plus point there. Achieving a lifelong aim had to be a positive, right? And they might be in the army, but there was food provided and a warm place to sleep. It was better than being out on the hills in all weathers. Every day they would be travelling further away from anyone interested in where they might have come from. It looked like there might be access to sharp objects and if it all got too much, she saw no reason why they couldn't slip quietly away in all the confusion. _

Perhaps it wasn't the end of the world after all.

Looking up she caught the vampire looking at her with interest. Damn him and his observational skills! Sending a filthy look in his general direction she lay down as though to sleep, close to her companion, but not touching. Tilly may have rolled over to make room, but Tonker wasn't going to move any closer until that nosy vampire had moved his damn attention elsewhere.

The rustling of the hay indicated that the other recruits were also seeking slumber and seeing that they all seemed settled, Oliver called for the candles to be blown out. Tonker raised an eyebrow unseen in the sudden darkness, and somehow just knew the vampire was doing the same. Though one candle had been left alight in the alcove by the door the guttering flame threw no light back into their corner and grateful for the concealment Tonker rolled over at last, gathering up Tilda into her arms. The girl sighed and relaxed back into her and Tonker remembered in that moment why exactly it was she had grabbed onto that thin hand each and every day and kept hold no matter what fate had decided to throw at them. Some things just were.

"_Who died and made Blondie king?_" she muttered quietly into the hair invading her mouth as they wriggled about for the most comfortable position in the musty hay.

Tilda wrapped herself in an available arm but said nothing and Tonker, staring into the darkness, felt the ever ready depression creep over her mind once again. A million and one unasked questions rose up on her tongue, questions never whispered into the night for she had never been able to believe there was anyone to hear. _Would Tilda ever find her way back?_ What would Tonker do if she didn't? _Was this how it was going to be for the rest of her life?_

Her gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a voice in the darkness. The vampire, apparently not satisfied with his work for one night, had decided to stir the pot one last time.

"So, _'Oliver'_." Tonker smirked quietly at the clearly articulated quotation marks. "That's rather a _long_ name. What do people call you once they get to know you?"

The pause that followed was filled with the small noises of a shed full of recruits attempting to pretend they were asleep and not listening in any way whatsoever. It lengthened to almost legendary proportions. Great-leader-Mr-Oliver-[_Blond Git_]-Perks seemed to have no answer.

"In that case I think _I_ shall call you…" Mal paused as though delicately selecting a name out of the air.

The squad waited with bated breath.

"I shall call you… 'Ozzer'."

Tonker stifled her snort of amusement in Tilda's shoulder, Igor coughed gently to himself and the troll began to snore.

'_Ozzer' _it was then, thought Tonker. Shame he hadn't decided on _'Blond Git'_ but what could you do? Sighing Tilda shifted position to accommodate her more snugly. They lay together, relaxed and warm and out of the weather. Tonker wondered vaguely if the vampire could see them, and was in the process of developing a fervent hope that _'Ozzer'_ would continue to hold his attention, when she fell suddenly into an exhausted sleep.

"It suits you" said Shufti, late as ever and once again completely missing the point.

'Ozzer' said nothing.

~X~


	2. A Posteriori

**Bookends II: A Posteriori.**

In the lower reaches of the castle, a scuffle had broken out. This was nothing new, fights had been breaking out all over as more and more people tried to inhabit the same space. High ranking officers had claimed the upper floors, leaving the troops to squabble over the cramped lower levels. The fight was about nothing special, one harassed and overworked corporal had bumped into another and the tension had exploded.

Normally this would not be a problem. After a short exchange of blows the MPs would come along and remove both protagonists, allowing life to continue. But one participant had simply had enough and was determined to thrash someone to make up for all the petty annoyances the world had inflicted on him and the other was a certain Magda Halter who would not give in to anyone or anything ever again. So it was that when Corporal Maladict came round the corner to see what the crowd were watching in such tense silence she found Tonker pressed up against the wall with a knife to her throat.

There was no plea for mercy in those eyes still blazing defiance at the world. You'd think the girl would know when to stop struggling but she kept on, clawing at his face even though one wrong move might drive the knife into her flesh whether her attacker meant it or not. Lofty was cowering in the far corner, white-faced and trembling.

Mal paused for a moment, unsure. Not a single soul would deny she no longer had any responsibility for these two. The war was over, the squad about to be disbanded and they'd each been left to fend for themselves. These two were more than able to fight their own battles; she'd seen that often enough. Perhaps she should just step back and leave them to it. After all, she had places to be.

_On the other hand, the meeting wasn't due to finish for another hour._

~X~

It was easy enough to break up the fight. When it came down to it the mob were swiftly persuaded they were urgently needed elsewhere. It surprised Mal that she hadn't needed to flash more than irony at them but word of a vampire in the Cheesemongers had obviously spread far and wide. She smiled in pleasure at a job well done as she moved forward to check Tonker was ok. The girl appeared less pleased as to the manner of her rescue and launched into a flow of invective, abruptly cut short as Mal stepped aside to reveal the huddled form of Lofty.

Sometimes, Mal decided, there were things more important than maintaining vampiric superiority over other races. She turned her back politely as Tonker rushed forward, investigating with intense interest the dust on a nearby cabinet. Tracing the carved wood with a fingernail she let the quiet reassuring murmuring wash around her and flow away down the empty corridor. Two close inspections of the cabinet later, Mal had begun to consider moving her assessment to the state of the masonry when the voice behind her faded into silence. She didn't turn round. You never knew with Tonker.

"Thanks."

It was a low voice, grudgingly stumbling into the previously unknown kingdoms of gratitude and appreciation. She turned to see them crouched in the corner, Tonker still protectively shielding the smaller girl. They were obviously waiting for her to leave, to go back to her business and leave them to their dark existence down here.

_But they were comrades in arms; Polly always said you looked after your own._

Torn, Mal searched the cracked flags beneath her feet for inspiration. She could just order them to accompany her but with the mood Tonker was in there had to be a better way. There was no help from the flooring and as the antagonism rising from the conundrum in the corner increased, she shifted her gaze to the uneven stones that walled the corridor. Of course the masonry also failed to deliver a strike of genius and despairing of building materials in general, Mal pulled her unwilling vocal cords into some semblance of order and issued a gentle invitation. There was a shocked silence from the huddled pair and then she watched Tonker wiggle uncomfortably through a refusal. Remembering what Polly had said Mal tried again, resolutely describing the finer points of the little room on the quieter upper floors overlooking the stables. This sold the deal, a small hand emerging from Lofty's sleeve to tug gently at Tonker's jacket meant the decision was made.

~X~

Mal lead off through the bowels of the castle and they trailed behind her in silence. She blessed the boredom that had sent her wandering the corridors day after day as her brain woke up and ticked over, providing her with an array of routes to choose from. She'd done her best to keep entertained but eventually even an anti-authoritarian vampire got bored of winding up the top brass by being obviously qualified for officer rank by virtue of class but annoyingly persisting in being a corporal. It might not be by design, but she had a good working knowledge of every inch of this dull place and she picked her way through the crowded lower levels with ease, always finding a quieter corridor when a bottleneck appeared up ahead. She resisted giving them the tour, despite the temptation to point out interesting oddities as they went along. Neither of the pair said a word either and so the blessed lack of strained conversation continued until they had left the crowded lower levels and emerged into the more relaxed surroundings of the upper floors. Just as Mal was priding herself on getting through an difficult situation without too much embarrassment on either side Tonker broke the silence.

"She doesn't need you?"

Mal couldn't feign ignorance of whom they might be referring to. That might indicate she had something to be ashamed of.

"She's busy today, official business."

An awkward silence built up. Admittedly the awkwardness was mostly on Mal's side. Tonker was looking around her with curiosity having obviously not been up this high before and Lofty had even managed to drag her eyes up to take a quick sweeping survey of the hallway. The flight of stairs in front of them beckoned but it no longer looked as much like Mal's saviour as it had before this conversation had been launched.

"She's been very involved, in the diplomatic process and that, lots of meetings."

_Which was an excellent thing, Mal reminded herself. Polly had been vital in ending the war and it was only right that the powers-that-be paid attention to her. There was no reason to feel slighted. No reason at all._

The three of them walked on abreast. At one end of the line Lofty followed the mortar of the flags from one stone to another with evident interest while at the other end Mal searched the walls and overly large portraits for some saving inspiration or perhaps a witty remark. In the middle Tonker strode forward sturdily. The little group paused at the foot of the stairs. Mal opened her mouth to release the amusing quip regarding the gentleman in the picture beside her head that she'd been saving up for the last five steps. But when she turned to speak she caught Tonker giving her an unexpected understanding eye and her brain stuttered. Then for some completely unknown reason that Mal refused to investigate Lofty lifted her eyes from her intense investigation of the flagged floor to offer her an encouraging glance before quickly slipping back into the sheltering radius of her companion.

Mal ignored the pair of them with great firmness and, there being nothing else to do, led off up the stairs, taking them two at a time. They followed her more slowly, forcing her out of politeness to wait for them at the top. Tonker's eyes were brimming with amusement when they regrouped and Mal made a note to thank the Duchess later that the girl had enough decency to not to comment.

~X~

They liked the room. They didn't say so, but after weeks in the field it had become easier to read their different silences. Tiny and tucked away most inconveniently at the end of a wing, it was quiet and lonely. The adjutants that normally racketed up and down the corridor were busy either taking copious notes to stay awake in boring meetings or tucked away writing complicated documents. Leaving the pair to explore the room around her while she brewed up Mal thought maybe she should have hunted them out and brought them up here before. It couldn't have been fun, constantly on the alert for trouble with that many people bumping into you on a daily basis.

"We were thinking of leaving."

The quiet tone cut across her adsorption. Mal glanced up from the coffee machine to find Tonker looking straight at her. Holding her gaze the girl nodded before turning back to the view. Neither of them felt the need to drag up how they'd caught Lofty fingering the highly inflammable tapestries in the great hall a couple of days ago.

"Maybe it's time."

She poured out the coffee. Out of habit she handed Tonker both cups and watched her gently guide Lofty's fingers around the fragile china. The army wasn't really the place for them any more, though it had served its purpose. She would miss them she realised and the thought surprised her for a moment. She wasn't used to missing people. But when she thought about it, it did make a kind of weird sense. It was an unlikely friendship but when you looked back they'd been an unlikely squad doing unlikely things and you took what you could when the chips were down.

They drank in silence, the grumbles of stable boys drifting up on the cigarette smoke from the stables below the window. Mal finished first, she was still recovering from the 'bag of beans' incident, or as Polly put it: her "crazy-batshit episode". Somehow one cup was never quite enough and she was strongly considering writing to the company that processed the beans to see if they had changed their roasting process. She replaced her cup carefully next to her paraphernalia and, moving quietly around the room to avoid disturbing the pair gazing with evident pleasure out of the window, began to gather items together. She needn't have worried, their attention was captured by the view down to the fields and the road away from the castle and they didn't notice her.

Eventually, unable to put it off any more, Mal cleared her throat politely and when Tonker swung round, indicated the packs now in the centre of the room with a throwaway gesture. It may have been somewhat her idea originally, but all credit to the squad; they'd pitched in without question. Igorina had surprised her with the amount of civilian clothing she'd been able to lay her hands on at short notice and Shufti had created small miracles down amongst the overworked laundry girls to get the blood stains out, returning them folded into sweet smelling piles. Explaining the plan to the open-mouthed figures in front of her, Mal made sure to emphasis the extent of their work. It wouldn't do for anyone to think a vampire could be soft hearted.

"… and Jade wandered round to the pay office with a few 'friends' and collected your wages." Mal concluded her tale with her best nonchalant shrug.

… _and she would have helped with the wages collection, she really would - it had sounded like fun. But on the afternoon in question she'd been mooching around outside a meeting waiting for Polly and missed the all the excitement. She didn't think these two, who seemed to see more than anyone expected, needed to know that part of the tale._

Tonker finally managed to kick her brain into gear and began to protest until a gentle hand on her arm caused her to swallow her words. Mal, discretion to the last, found something very interesting in the bottom of her coffee cup and when it looked like the situation might continue longer than she envisaged, left the room quietly commenting that it was about time she attended to cleaning out her coffee machine. After all, who knew what terrible things might be forthcoming if grounds were allowed to clog the system? When she returned, a very boring ten minutes later, it appeared a decision had been made. They stood together, framed in the window. It would be hard to tell who had been reassuring whom and an invasion to look too closely. Mal busied herself packing away the coffee engine.

"You didn't need to."

Tonker, stubborn as usual, still needed to make it clear, not wanting to be beholden to anyone. Lofty, who had turned to investigating the packs, paused in her rummaging but didn't look up.

"I know." She didn't say anymore. She didn't need to.

Mal found she had nothing left to do. Not wanting to provoke her guests by staring she sat for a moment before deciding that damnit it _was_ her room after all, and standing up again she deposited herself in position 427 (negligent slouch with hints of relaxed interest) against the small dresser. Straightening Polly's hairbrush she suddenly remembered a part of the plan as yet unfinished. After a planning meeting with the squad she'd scheduled a food collection run for the following day. Mal was especially proud of the sub-plan involving Igorina and the dissection of a mouse on the kitchen table. She mentioned this lack to Tonker but they didn't seem bothered any lack in the preparations made for them.

"We'll swing by the kitchen on our way out." They were wriggling into the packs, Tonker even managing to produce something like a grin as she helped Lofty adjust the straps. "We've got special skills for kitchens."

They came to attention in front of her, just to show they could. They would never do it for anyone who demanded it from them, yet they did it for _her_. She didn't deserve the snappy salute they gave her either. But she returned it. They were, after all, in the army. For now.

"And you don't want me to come?"

They both shook their heads, confident now; their minds on how best to raid the kitchens. Just before they left Tonker turned back.

"You should go back to her you know." Her meaning was obvious.

Mal could feel her shoulders tightening as she forced the light smile of denial. This thing, whatever it might be, was none of their business - friendship or no friendship. She thought she'd managed to hide it and it was only these two, smarter than most in these situations, that had seen through her pretence. She'd assumed Tonker would have been content to leave it alone but apparently that was no longer the case. Perhaps she could just tear her throat out a little bit?

Tonker thought for a moment, as though considering whether Mal was worthy of the knowledge before adding, factually: "She always looks for you when she comes out of the meetings."

It was the turn of Mal's jaw to drop.

"It must be hard for her, being diplomatic all day." Tonker shrugged. "Lonely as well, with no one to call friend."

Mal realising her jaw was still in the dropped position, attempted to rearrange her face into something more seemly for a disinterested person. Thankfully Tonker, satisfied with having said her piece, took the hint to discontinue the conversation, choosing instead to crack open the door and take a quick scrutiny of the corridor outside. Staring blankly at the girl's back Mal wavered for a moment, unsure quite how to process this new information. Turning back Tonker's lips twitched at her confusion before her face returned to its usual closed blankness. She turned to Lofty and murmured something, Mal assumed about the method of their leaving as they both shrugged more comfortably into the packs and drew themselves up in readiness.

Mal pulled herself upright but didn't offer her hand in farewell, amusing correctly that it wouldn't be welcome. They slipped through the door, Lofty tripping lightly after her taller companion and Mal drifted after them to lean nonchalantly against the door frame and watch them move quickly off towards the stairwell. She was good at nonchalant. She'd practised it on Polly often enough. At the last minute they turned and waved, just a small lifting of the hand in acknowledgement of time lived together. She could have sworn Lofty smiled.

Mal waited for a moment, in case they'd forgotten something, before going back into the room and closing the door. A small smile played around the corners of her mouth. She brewed another cup of coffee and drank it standing at the window.

When the clock struck six she quietly put down the cup, straightened her uniform and proceeded at a decorous pace to a small anteroom in the east wing of the castle. It was deserted and the raised voices within the accompanying chamber indicated the meeting was going to overrun again. She settled herself as comfortably as possible to wait.

~X~


End file.
